The Maynard
Spring 2015

Mitchell Grabois

Can’t Stomach

Stones are Tums
in this dyspeptic universe
In other words:
we can’t stomach the world
In other words:
human nature is too much to take

Medical marijuana eases nausea,
a common complaint

Acid reflux is one more

The acrobat on his unicycle
balances a ten foot stack of dishes
I can make out a slice of pizza
and a Ruben sandwich

He pedals backwards
He balances a ball on his nose
With his chin he eases a bottle of Tums
from his shirt pocket
He tosses the bottle in the air
The tablets fly out
like a spray of stars
Constellations have stories
They have something to say

I wasn’t going to tell you
but I am suffering from stomach cancer
In the early days
friends would hear the news and say:
I’m sorry
and I’d nearly shout:
Don’t tell me you’re sorry
Tell Cancer you’re sorry
Because I’m going to kick Cancer’s ass
send him back to the Cancer Ward
where he belongs
where he can lay on a bed naked and bleeding
and lick his wounds

That’s what I said in the early days
the Days of Hubris